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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498901">A Thousand Love Poems</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DieRosenrot/pseuds/DieRosenrot'>DieRosenrot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 02:33:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DieRosenrot/pseuds/DieRosenrot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The way they look at each other could inspire a thousand love poems.</i>
</p><p>--<br/>A collection of one shots.<br/>Agatha Greene/Nate Sewell</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Detective/Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sunday Morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Book 3 implied<br/>Words: 761<br/>Rating: T<br/>Fluff, established relationship, implied sex<br/><a href="https://dierosenrot.tumblr.com/post/633769065411903488/sunday-morning">Read on Tumblr</a></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The summer sun was shining brightly through the partially open curtains, and its warmth was enough to wake Agatha up slowly. Still, she didn't want to open her eyes yet. Laying on her stomach, she hid her face in her arms and groaned, trying to ignore the lazy Sunday morning and go back to sleep, but a soft caress along her naked back caught her attention. </p><p>"Good morning," whispered a gentle voice by her side. She knew Nate was smiling at her while brushing away her long hair off her skin, placing it carefully on the pillow beside her. </p><p>Agatha groaned again, stubborn, but couldn't hold back a smile. Nate's knuckles ran down her spine and his fingertips traced the way back to her neck, taking his time to connect her freckles as if forming constellations. He did it every morning that they woke up together, and every time he told her about his new discoveries on her starry body. He searched for her face behind the black locks of hair, tickling her arms to convince her to turn around. "It's time to wake up, dear." </p><p>She chuckled, defeated, "It's not, that's why Sundays exist," still, she shifted her position to meet his eyes and rest on her back. He was lying on his side, resting his elbow on the pillow to hold his head up on his hand. The sun was behind him, framing his dark eyes and messy hair in a portrait of his smile. "Good morning, love." </p><p>"Did you sleep well?" his hand moved up to her face, once again brushing her hair away and caressing her cheek. His thumb stroked her lips and went down to her chin. Nate couldn't stop touching Agatha, and she loved it.</p><p>"Yes," she replied simply, leaning against his touch and kissing his palm while closing her eyes again. His hands were large, much larger than her own, but still his touch was soft and tender. His fingers felt like silk against her skin, sending chills all over her body despite its warmth. He moved his digits across her neck to caress a sensitive spot behind her ear, and she purred, "But I'm gonna fall asleep again if you keep doing that."  </p><p>Nate laughed softly, and leaned down to kiss her lips, but didn't stop fondling her hair, "What if I keep kissing you instead?" he whispered, barely moving away. </p><p>She hummed, palming his bare chest before pulling him closer by his neck to kiss him again. "Then I would never leave this bed," she giggled. </p><p>"Sleepyhead," his smile did not falter while he gazed at her emerald green eyes, enchanted by the depth of them. His long fingers ran idly down her shoulders and breasts, contouring her curves as if he was painting her. Nate held her waist, pressing it ever so slightly, and couldn't resist spreading his palm over her hips, but his eyes were still fixed on hers. </p><p>When his hand moved up again, his fingers danced on her ribs the same way they did on his piano. </p><p>"What is it?" Agatha asked, hypnotised by his attention on her. </p><p>"Romance in F Minor," his tone was not so different, being completely lost in her. The warmth radiating from her body was cozier than the sun on his back and her heartbeat was more melodic than any song the birds could sing from the trees outside. Even her breathing was setting the pace for his own, and both of them were wrapped around each other's presence.</p><p>"I like it," she closed her eyes again, smiling tenderly. She had danced to Tchaikovsky's music with him countless times, trying to teach him ballet, and that one was her favourite. It was slow, intimate and safe, just like he was to her. Dancing with Nate was like floating around the clouds, even if he was not much of a dancer himself, solely by the way he held her in his arms. He worshipped her every movement, just like she worshipped his hands all over her.</p><p>"I love you," the words leaked from his lips before he could hold it, but he meant every single one of them. Nate yearned for a long time to tell her that, afraid of how she would react, but when Agatha repeated it to him, those became his favourite words. He could never get tired of watching her face light up whenever he told her that or by the way he chanted her name. </p><p>Fortunately, the feeling was no less than mutual. </p><p>"I love you too, Nate."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Phone Problems, pt. 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Book 2~3<br/>Words: 1336<br/>Rating: T<br/>Mention of nudity; fluff; established relationship<br/><a href="https://dierosenrot.tumblr.com/post/634054681635733504/i-saw-agentnatesewell-tags-on-this-post-i-made">Read on Tumblr</a></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"How are you so good at this game?" Morgan grunted, perching against the pool table in the games room. The dark walls, faint light and absence of windows quickly turned it in one of Morgan's favourite places in the Warehouse. </p><p>Nate smiled, setting up another game for them, "Because I'm actually trying. You're just hitting the balls and hoping for the best." </p><p>"Well, yeah. What else am I supposed to do?" </p><p>"You can also try," he chuckled and placed the white ball in the middle of the table, "You can start." </p><p>"I bet five bucks that Nate is gonna win again," Farah teased behind them before throwing a dart at its target hanging on a wall. For the last few hours, her fun had been trying to catch the darts before they could hit the bullseye, in an incessant blur of movements. </p><p>"Make it fifty," the woman replied, taking a cue stick from Nate's hands while circling the table.</p><p>"Are you betting against yourself?" Farah laughed, but agreed to raise the bet. The other's grin was reflecting the faint lights when she set herself in place and leaned over the table. With a solid, powerful hit on the white ball, Morgan easily sank five balls at different pockets at once. </p><p>Nate gasped, aiming an astonished look at her. "How did you do that?" he asked. </p><p>"I tried," she grinned, handing him the cue stick and walking towards Farah to claim her money. </p><p>Nate couldn't hold back a smile before turning his back to analyse the arrangement on the table. He always took too long to calculate his next moves, and while doing so, the muffled sound of piano keys rang from his jacket on a nearby chair. His head turned instinctively to the melody, and he sprinted over to look for his phone. </p><p>"It's Agatha," he commented, searching his pockets, "Why is she awake? What time is it?" </p><p>"It's 7:30 in the morning," tired of the darts, Farah sprawled herself on an armchair by Nate's side, "How do you know it's her?"</p><p>"What!? We have been playing this game for seven hours?" He asked Morgan, who just shrugged, uninterested. Ever since they moved to the Warehouse, it was common for them to lose track of time whenever they had a leisure day, especially when they didn't need any sleep. When he finally found his phone, he turned back to Farah to answer her, "She set this sound for her calls and messages, so I can know it's her." </p><p>"Like a dog whistle?" teased Morgan, approaching them and perching herself next to Farah, "Cute."</p><p>Nate rolled his eyes and focused on the device. He turned it around, tried to tap the screen multiple times and press two tiny buttons on its side, but was unable to unlock it. </p><p>"Need some help there, Natey?" The youngest vampire chuckled, watching as the man struggled with technology.</p><p>"Yes, please," he admitted, defeated, and handed her the phone before going back to the pool table, "Agatha is probably just saying she's off to the station and will meet us here later." </p><p>"When is her birthday?" Farah asked. </p><p>"December 23, why?" Nate's eyes were focused once again on his game.</p><p>He didn't see when Farah tapped the password 1223 and unlocked the phone. Scrolling down the notifications, she opened the detective's message to read it out loud for him, "Oh my goodness," she choked in surprise. </p><p>By her side, Morgan leaned down to peek at the message, opening a wide grin right after, "Nathaniel Henry Sewell, you lucky bastard." </p><p>"Hn?" he shifted his attention to the women, frowning a little in confusion. His eyes studied their faces, the phone in Farah's hand, and then them again, "What did she say?"</p><p>"Oh boy, how do I even begin to describe it?" Farah bursted into laughter, while Morgan took the phone. </p><p>She stared at it for a few long seconds before announcing, "She said, and I quote, 'Mornings are too cold already. Getting out of the shower is torturing. Maybe you should warm me up a bit tonight?' and quote. She also sent a tongue emoji and sweat drops." </p><p>When both women looked at Nate again, he was seriously confused, standing still while staring back at them. His eyebrows were frowned and his lips were pressed together, as if he was trying to connect some dots in his mind. When it finally clicked, and his expression turned into pure despair, Farah grinned, "I didn't know she had freckles on her boobs, too." </p><p>In coordinated action, Morgan showed Nate his phone, displaying a picture of Agatha, taken by herself. The detective was laying on her bed, partially covered by her sheets and long loose hair, but having her torso exposed, where all three of them could see her nipples, hard and shivering in the cold air. </p><p>When his eyes met the image, a rush of blood took over Nate's face, and his skin got hotter than ever before. His whole body was taken over by adrenaline and, in a blur of movement, he ran towards his companions to grab the phone from them. Farah was laughing out loud, unable to control herself, and wiped a tear of joy from her eyes.</p><p>"Let us leave the room first if you're gonna answer accordingly," Morgan provoked, grinning so widely that she thought her cheeks would tear apart, "Make good use of that pool table." </p><p>"I–" Nate tried to speak, but he couldn't form words. Not only his embarrassment clouded his mind, but the picture surely had the desired arousing effect on him. The wave of extreme emotions froze him in place, and for a moment all he could hear was Farah's laughter and his own heart beating loudly. When he finally gathered enough senses, he aimed pleading puppy eyes at the women and blurted, "Please, don't joke about it. Let me tell her what happened so she won't think I showed you this picture on purpose. Heavens, what if she thinks I'm bragging about her? Please, if you're my friends, let me explain everything and apologise properly. I don't want her to be upset." </p><p>He spoke so fast that even Morgan couldn't help but laugh, "Relax, Nate," she said, "Those are not the first tits we've seen, and I'm sure we are not the first to see them either. Agatha will understand." </p><p>"Still!" He ran a hand over his hair, trying to calm himself down, and took a deep breath, "I must implore for her forgiveness." </p><p>Suddenly, a deep voice echoed into the room, dragging Nate away from his frenzy, "Good morning," Adam said from the door while reading some reports. The Commanding Agent turned his attention to his oldest friend, finding him with constricted pupils, messed hair and heart racing. "Nate, Agent Greene called. She needs us at the facility. Are you ok?" he raised an eyebrow. </p><p>"Fine! I'm fine. Perfectly fine." The vampire chuckled nervously, locking his phone's screen again before grabbing his jacket and heading in a rush to the door, "Facility, right? I will meet you there. See you later." </p><p>Adam blinked at the speed in which Nate ran out of the warehouse. He turned slowly to the women in the back of the room, silently demanding explanations. </p><p>"Hey, don't look at us, we did nothing," with hands raised beside her head, Farah defended herself. The agent grunted, turning on his heels and following his friend, leaving both women alone. After a few seconds, the youngest prompt, "So… we are totally telling this to Agatha as soon as she arrives, right?"</p><p>"Of course we are," Morgan smiled by her side, "If Nate thought that she would be spared, then he should know us better." </p><p>Chuckling, Farah agreed, calming herself down from the joy of the moment. </p><p>"She really has excellent tits, though." Morgan commented on a low voice, leaning a bit closer to her friend as in a confession. </p><p>"Right!?"</p><p>"It's Impressive." </p><p>"Stunning."</p><p>"I could look at it all day."</p><p>"Me too!"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Phone Problems, pt. 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Book 2~3<br/>Words: 831<br/>Rating: T<br/>Mention of nudity; fluff; established relationship<br/><a href="https://dierosenrot.tumblr.com/post/633179388534571009/i-was-talking-about-this-ask-with-imjustasadsong">Read on Tumblr</a></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey Ags,” Farah greeted the Detective with a playful smirk as the woman arrived at the Warehouse’s living room, “How you doing?”</p><p>She frowned in suspicion, shifting her gaze from the youngest to Morgan, who tried to conceal an amused smile while perching by an armchair where Farah was sprawled. Something was not right in the way they were looking at her. “Uh… I’m fine? What are two up to?” she asked, putting her colourful backpack on the sofa in front of her. </p><p>“Everything in place, I see,” Farah continued to provoke, “You’re still rejoicing the winds of youth.” </p><p>"It's a bit cold, isn't it? This wind?" asked Morgan, joining her friend in the way they spoke to Agatha, "Gives me chills everywhere."</p><p>“Oh, but her clothes seem warm enough today,” she nodded, “She’s even wearing a bra.”</p><p>"Oh, but getting out of the shower is always a challenge.”</p><p>"What are you freaks talking about?" Agatha finally asked after the banter between the vampires. She tried to not make much of the conversation, putting away her car key and wallet in her bag, but her curiosity was greater than her willpower. </p><p>"Ask him." Morgan pointed at the door with her chin, biting her lower lip as Nate walked into the room. </p><p>Looking back over her shoulder and meeting the other’s brown eyes, it took Agatha only a few seconds to understand what was going on. As soon as she connected the dots, her cheeks burned with the rush of blood colouring her freckles. Earlier that morning she sent Nate a picture of her, topless, lying on her bed after taking a shower and making a suggestive comment about her nipples. When he didn't reply, she assumed he was just not using his phone as usual. She turned on her heels to the man, as blushed as she could ever be, and didn't need to ask him any further questions.</p><p>“I can explain,” he pleaded, raising his hand in front of his chest, meaning that he didn't want to fight. His own face had gained an intense shade of red, “I swear.”</p><p>Behind Agatha, the two women laughed out loud. </p><p>"He needed help to unlock his phone," explained Morgan, once again catching the Detective’s attention, but Agatha was still looking at Nate, too in shock to react. </p><p>"And finding his apps," Farah continued the sentence. </p><p>"And opening his messages," the other finished. They were enjoying it too much and the sound of their laughter filled the room.</p><p>"It was not on purpose," the youngest offered a comforting smile, though neither Nate nor Agatha could tell if she was trying to protect him or save her own ass.</p><p>Nate also tried to smile, moving his lips in a silent “I’m sorry”. He looked too much like a giant teddy bear and it was almost impossible for Agatha to be mad at him, but her embarrassment trumped it all. </p><p>"Besides, you have excellent tits," of course, Morgan had to make that comment, setting Agatha's heart pumping even faster, which only contributed to their joy.</p><p>The detective’s shoulders sagged, and she covered her face with both hands. To Nate’s relief, as he approached to check on her, the human started laughing out loud. She hugged him by the waist and hid her face in his chest, growling against his shirt, “Nate, I swear…” she chuckled, still unable to scold him properly.</p><p>**</p><p>Agatha spent the rest of the evening in the living room’s couch, setting Nate's phone to be as easy to navigate as possible, including writing notes of step-by-step guides to several basic apps, especially for messages and photos. “And now you only need to <em> look </em>at your phone for it to unlock, ok?” she said, “You're an old man but also a smart man, you can do it.”</p><p>Nate chuckled, testing the facial recognition feature a few times, “I am very sorry, my dear.”</p><p>“It's fine,” she returned the smile, resting her head on his shoulder while he explored the phone’s features. It was cute how he only used his index finger to navigate it. “At least you didn't ask my mother to help you. Can you imagine how she would react?”</p><p>The thought of it made the vampire hold his breath for a while, too ashamed to even reply. The scared look on his face made Agatha laugh, and she continued, “She would probably be mad at me and take it easy on you. She’s a merciful woman.”</p><p>“She would either fire me from the Agency,” he tried a nervous chuckle, “Or set me on fire.” </p><p>“She likes you, Nate. And she kinda likes us together,” Agatha tried to calm him down, shifting her position to straddle his lap, “And, I mean, can anyone even blame us?” she continued, smirking, “I <em> have </em>excellent tits.” </p><p>Leaning closer, Agatha caught his attention on something much easier to understand. As their lips met and their bodies tangled, Nate’s phone was soon forgotten on the side table.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Green Eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Book 2~3<br/>Words: 743 <br/>Rating: G<br/>fluff; established relationship, song prompt (<i>Green Eyes</i> by Joseph)<br/><a href="https://dierosenrot.tumblr.com/post/639330881858945024/number-43-for-agatha-and-nate">Read on Tumblr</a></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Snow fell softly outside the Warehouse, painting a picture that was almost black and white. The trees lost all their leaves, the grass was covered by a white, glittering blanket, untouched by any living creature, and the world seemed still, too quiet in the middle of the woods. Even the sky had lost its colour, displaying a grey so dark that Nate could barely tell if it was already evening or not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside the living room, the palette wasn’t much better. It was comfortable, of course, and beautifully decorated—no reason to be humble, he had done an outstanding job with the furniture—but the more he looked at it, analysed every shape, texture and tone, the more he wanted to change it. Not because he disliked it, quite the contrary, but because there was something missing, something vivid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes roamed about the room, as if taking note of every detail. Maybe more flowers would do the trick of adding more vibrancy to the space, but at this time of the year it would be impossible to find good enough bouquets, and Morgan would probably hate the smell. While he studied the embroidered curtains, something slipped over his thigh on the sofa and startled him out of his thoughts. A pair of tiny feet covered in thick woven socks rested comfortably over his jeans, but their owner seemed to not have noticed her own movement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand risked relaxing over her foot, where his thumb would idly caress her ankle. They were already so used to each other’s presence that she gave no reaction to the touch while immersed in a story in front of her. Nate’s eyes followed the lines of her legs all the way up to her face to find Agatha focused on her reading, biting the side of her left thumb to contain her nerves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The book was a fiction, some intense mystery by the look on her face, and was resting over her own thighs, knees bent up as she sat along the length of the sofa like she always did. Could almost compete against Farah on who could stay the longest sitting properly, with both feet on the floor, but it didn’t bother Nate, never did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her winter clothes were as plain as the rest of the room, but the burgundy of her oversized sweater, falling delicately to the side and exposing her freckled shoulder, was more crimson than his decoration. Everything about her was more lively, intense and gorgeous than anything handmade in the world. Such natural beauty could not be found anywhere else but on her.  She was a work of art, with her loose dark hair spectacularly framing her face, her fingers turning the pages as if dealing with gold sheets and the tips of her nails to guide her through the words. Red lips contrasted with the white of her skin, even with no makeup, and the green—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nate?” Agatha called, leading his gaze towards her puzzled expression, an eyebrow slightly raised and the other forming the most subtle frown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there they were, the green eyes so bright that one could easily mistake them for emeralds, intense as the forces of nature responsible for crafting it, and many times more magnificent. Like spring itself, clashing with the landscape displayed through the windows behind, her eyes were welcoming, joyful with the youth emanating from her entire being. Curiously they searched his own, always questioning and always pondering the answers, but Nate wished just a few moments longer to enjoy his view, to dive in the depth of their viridity and let his mind wander. The eyes were his favourite part of her, having him hooked from the beginning, and from which he had no wish to part ways. He could live three hundred more years just looking at her eyes and never tiring of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Agatha chuckled a song from spring birds, her lower lids curving up and hiding part of her irises in the same way that waves reached the shores, and she knew he was admiring her. She always knew and always allowed, not ashamed of their intimacy and never rushing their pacing, for she too would catch herself doing exactly the same, reading him as the pages of his—no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span>—books in wintry afternoons like this one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, dear,” he finally answered, chuckling under his breath and shaking the thoughts away from his head, “I was thinking about redecorating for spring.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Gracious</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>No warnings, just a scribble I had lying around<br/>Words: 201<br/>Rating: G<br/><a href="https://dierosenrot.tumblr.com/post/648917329687773184/gracious-the-wayhaven-chronicles-natefdetective">Read on Tumblr</a></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"It's so frustrating," Nate grunted from his seat on the floor, his focus switching from his pen and notebook on his lap to the woman in front of him and letting his head rest against the wall behind.</p>
<p>"What is?" Her voice echoed in the training room between heavy panting as she jumped from one corner to another, practising ballet. </p>
<p>Nate smiled when her feet hit the floor and assumed another choreographed position. Agatha started to spin on her axis, using her right leg as a guide and balancing herself by opening and closing her arms, every movement perfectly synchronized and gracious. A <i>Fouette</i>, he recalled her teachings.</p>
<p>"The fact that I can speak so many languages, and still have no words to describe you." He finally answered, warm brown eyes in awe at her sight and his smile, as teasing as it was inviting, widening.</p>
<p>The Detective came to a halt, almost tripping on her own feet. She turned to him, cheeks coloured in such bright red that almost masked the freckles. "What—Are you writing about me?"</p>
<p>"Should I stop?" </p>
<p>She bit her lips, mumbling a response between a smile before starting to spin again on her pointe shoes, "No…"</p>
  </div></div>
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